Darrel of the Blessed Isles eBook

“Some days,” said Darrel, “the soul
in me is like a toy skiff, tossing in the ripples
of a duck pond an’ mayhap stranding on a reed
or lily. An’ then,” he added, with
kindling eye and voice, “she is a great ship,
her sails league long an’ high, her masthead
raking the stars, her hull in the infinite sea.”

“Well,” said Trove, sighing, “I’m
still in the ripples of the duck pond.”

“An’ see they do not swamp thee,”
said Darrel, with a smile that seemed to say, “Poor
weakling, your trouble is only as the ripples of a
tiny pool.” They went on slowly, over green
pastures, halting at a brook in the woods. There,
again, they rested in a cool shade of pines, Darrel
lighting his pipe.

“I envy thee, boy,” said the tinker, “entering
on thy life-work in this great land—­a country
blest o’ God. To thee all high things
are possible. Where I was born, let a poor lad
have great hope in him, an’ all—­ay,
all—­even those he loved, rose up to cry
him down. Here in this land all cheer an’
bid him God-speed. An’ here is to be the
great theatre o’ the world’s action.
Many of high hope in the broad earth shall come,
an’ here they shall do their work. An’
its spirit shall spread like the rising waters, ay,
it shall flood the world, boy, it shall flood the
world.”

Trove made no reply, but he thought much and deeply
of what the tinker said. They lay back a while
on the needle carpet, thinking. They could hear
the murmur of the brook and a woodpecker drumming
on a dead tree.

“Ah boy! ‘tis only God’s oxygen.
Think o’ the poor fools withering on cracker
barrels in Hillsborough an’ wearing away ‘the
lag end o’ their lewdness.’ I have
no patience with the like o’ them, I’d
rather be a butcher’s clerk an’ carry with
me the redolence o’ ham.”

In Hillsborough, where all spoke of him as an odd
man of great learning, there were none, saving Trove
and two or three others, that knew the tinker well,
for he took no part in the roaring gossip of shop
and store.

“Hath it ever occurred to thee,” said
Darrel, as they walked along, “that a fool is
blind to his folly, a wise man to his wisdom?”

When they were through the edge of the wilderness
and came out on Cedar Hill, and saw, below them, the
great, round shadow of Robin’s Inn, they began
to hasten their steps. They could see Polly
reading a book under the big tree.

“What ho! the little queen,” said Darrel,
as they came near, “Now, put upon her brow ‘an
odorous chaplet o’ sweet summer buds.’”

She came to meet them in a pretty pink dress and slippers
and white stockings.

“Fair lady, I bring thee flowers,” said
Darrel, handing her a bouquet. “They are
from the great garden o’ the fields.”